


Heaven is a bathroom at Applebee's with you

by theelusiveflamingo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Applebee's As Aphrodisiac, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:58:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1579361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theelusiveflamingo/pseuds/theelusiveflamingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He drinks Bud Lite, of course the Bible salesman drinks Bud Lite, and his crisp blue shirt is—He’s unbuttoned an extra button somewhere in between the car and this slightly sticky table, hasn’t he? </p><p>He looks like he should be a former fencer, ex-military, something that involves strong shoulders and capable biceps.  If he were drinking something stronger than a Bud Lite, she thinks to herself, she’d ask to squeeze those biceps and massage out all that tension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven is a bathroom at Applebee's with you

**Author's Note:**

> Allow me to recommend pulling up some Tim McGraw videos on youtube to enhance your reading experience.

**The First Appletini**

He drinks Bud Lite, of course the Bible salesman drinks Bud Lite, and his crisp blue shirt is—He’s unbuttoned an extra button somewhere in between the car and this slightly sticky table, hasn’t he?  _Hasn’t he._

He looks like he should be a former fencer, ex-military, something that involves strong shoulders and capable biceps.  If he were drinking something stronger than a Bud Lite, she thinks to herself, she’d ask to squeeze those biceps and massage out all that tension.

“Those must hurt carrying Bibles around all day,” she blurts out, squeezing without asking.

His face flushes and he smiles through his stammer.  “My, you sure drank that fast, Rhaella.”

“A lot faster than you’re drinking _that_ , anyway.”

“I’m the Designated Driver.”  Mr. Hasty (she’s supposed to call him Bonifer, but _Mr. Hasty_ makes her wetter; it makes her feel like a Bad Girl, and it’s been a while since she’s gotten to be a Bad Girl in a _good_ way) looks like he’s going to grab her hand.  “Would you like another?”

“Please.”

“My treat, of course.”

“And I was just starting to think chivalry really was dead.”

**The Second Appletini**

“Oh, Mr. Hasty, Mr. Hasty.”

“Please, call me Bonifer.”

She eases her foot out of its cramped Louboutin.  Jo’s feet are a size smaller than hers, and everyone in here seems to be wearing sensible shoes or work boots.  What had she been thinking?  She doesn’t have to be a Targaryen here—she can strip herself of the burden of that red and that black and sink comfortably into Applebee’s green and Bonifer’s blue shirt.  “You’re a Bible salesman, and I’m not even wearing a cross around my neck.  Shouldn’t you be ashamed to be sitting here with me?”

“Well…”  He smiles over the Bud Light.  He’s still nursing his first beer, this one.  Aerys would have been on his tenth Spiked Summertime Soda by now; he loves strange, sweet concoctions in large quanities.  “I’ll be honest with you, I find that dragon you wear much more interesting than some old cross.  I’ve seen a million crosses on the job.  Does it have a story?”

It’s a gift from Aerys, and it’s a striking thing, a black, three-headed dragon with little bits of inlaid ruby. Unlike her wedding ring, which neither of them gives a damn about as long as she wears it to social functions, he always checks to see if she’s wearing it.  She hadn’t thought it would come up, as it hangs between her cleavage, and Bonifer seemed too polite to admit he was staring at her—

“It was a gift.”  She drains her glass.  “Can we find out if our wings are almost ready?  I’m in the mood for some spice.”

**The Appetizer**

“Hot sauce on hot wings?”  Bonifer asks, dunking his drumstick in the ranch dressing.  “You’re an impressive woman, Rhaella.”

“I’m not a woman, I’m a _dragon_.”  She drops what she’s eating and makes her fingers into orange-stained claws.  “Grrrrrrr.  I’m going to eat you up.”

“I could think of worse ways to meet my Maker than that,” Bonifer says. He wipes his fingers on his napkin and drops his arm to his side.  She feels his hand on her knee just before it actually gets there, and her heart feels like it’s beating in her throat and her stomach at once.

She forgets to wipe her own fingers before stroking his knuckles.

**The Third Appletini**

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want another Bud Lite?” Rhaella sings.  “My treat.”

“You’re not paying for a single thing today, is that clear?”  His thumb’s kneading her inner thigh softly.  The circles he’s making aren’t nearly big enough.  They’re not touching enough skin.  The damn Bible salesman knows exactly what he’s doing.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t take you anywhere nicer than this.  I’m a little strapped for cash this month.”

“This is perfect, this is—”  Rhaella leans across the table and kisses his lips.  They’re big and full, perfect for talking about the Bible all day, and the three-headed dragon bumps cool against her breasts, and his lips are warm, they’re burning.

He gently cups the back of her head, bringing her face closer.

“I’m glad you didn’t take me anyplace nicer,” she says, pulling away before she soaks right through her panties and into her grey pencil skirt.  “They don’t let you do things like that in nice places.”  Unless, of course, you leave a tip so big they can’t complain, but she’d rather be here with Bonifer, she’d rather be eating Taco Bell on the side of the road with Bonifer, she’d rather be anywhere with Bonifer.

**The Main Course**

“I believe in God’s Word,” Bonifer’s saying with his mouth full of the cheapest sirloin option.  “That’s why I sell Bibles door-to-door.  I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t believe every word of what those Bibles said, wouldn’t I?”

Rhaella finishes chewing her bite of greasy cheeseburger as she contemplates.  “I’m not sure if that’s really a bad thing.  It seems like you have to be a hypocrite if you want to be financially successful, these days.”

Bonifer puts his knife and fork down in the proper resting position.   He’s charming without meaning to be, her Bonifer.  “What I mean to say is, this may sound crazy, but I’d give up the Lord God for you, Rhaella.”  He kisses her fingers while he runs his hand up and down her thigh, squeezing a little more than slightly this time, and she feels like her life might flash before her eyes.  His hands are _strong_.

“Did you play any sports in college or something?”  It seems abrupt, unrelated, but she knows he’ll know what she’s thinking about.

“I fenced.  I was damn good at it, too.”

“Thought so,” she mumbles as she picks the heavy cheeseburger up off her plate.

“One night I had a dream.  I dreamed I gave up fencing, dropped out of college, and became a Bible salesman.  And the dream felt special.  It wasn’t any old dream.  I knew I had to listen to it, but I never knew why.”

“Do you know now?”  She rubs his calf with her bare foot.

“I believe I do.”  He finally finishes the Bud Lite.  “Mmmm-hmmm.  I believe I do.”

Rhaella parts her legs wider under the table.

“You have such beautiful eyes.  I’ve never met anyone with purple eyes before.”

“It’s uncommon.”

“Do they look even more beautiful up close?”

“They might.”  Jo thinks so.  Tywin thinks so.  Aerys doesn’t mention them much, but that’s one thing Rhaella can’t fault him for.  His are even more interesting.

They breathe in unison, audible over the country music.

She has a crazy, wrong idea, and she can’t wait to say it out loud.  “I’m going to have to have to pee after we pay, because of all those drinks,” she says.  “Do you think you could show me where the bathroom is?  Just because I’ve never been here before.  It would be embarrassing to get lost.”

“I’d be happy to help,” Bonifer says.  He smiles as he stretches, and Rhaella watches the blue shirt untuck itself from his belt and ride up. 

**The End**

Two things are blasting in the bathroom: the A/C and the tinny music, but Rhaella’s flushed from head to toe and all she wants is her clothing _off_.  Bonifer slams the stall door shut.  Their hands both scramble for the lock.  Rhaella is distracted by trying to kiss him while unzipping his pants, and Bonifer gets to the lock with far greater ease.

A new song comes on.

“Tim McGraw, not my usual choice of mood music,” he says against her ear, her jaw, her neck, and then her left shoulder as he tugs at her shirt and bra strap with his teeth.  The toilet lid clatters as they sit down as one.  She’s got his cock out now and it’s—no, she doesn’t need to compare it to anything, it feels solid and firm in her hand and she loves it so much she wants to tell him so but her tongue is busy exploring the feel of his.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do this in a…proper place,” he pants, as he simultaneously thumbs her clit through her panties while pushing them aside with his fingers.  It’s ridiculous, how close she comes to orgasm just from that.  “You deserve a better place without this…this _music_.”

“I like it.”  She helps him unzip her skirt and roll it up around her waist.  This country-pop song is perfect for right now, it just _is_ , it’s not complicated, it’s got no issues, it’s just a song, she’s just Rhaella, not _Rhaella Targaryen_ , just Rhaella—She sinks forward onto his cock.  Her knees brush the porcelain cold of the toilet and he’s so warm inside her and he’s so—

He’s tugging gently at her nipples with his teeth, kissing them and cupping her breasts like he can’t get enough, like he doesn’t care that they’re not as big as Joanna’s.  Who’s Joanna?  There’s no one in the world but her and her sweet, sexy salesman, whose cock is just the right size so that each time she sinks down onto it it stretches her sweetly, fills her up so well she could scream.

He’s groaning and tipping his head back so she can kiss his neck.  His big hands are now stroking her stomach like he loves it, each thumb taking a turn to dip down and circle her clit so well it’s like worship.  She’s so wet she’s making noises down there.  The toilet doesn’t feel cold anymore, and she feels tingling pressure building in her body, she’s a hot volcano, she’s Just Rhaella, and her sweet sweet Bonifer is going to make her come like she’s never—

She orgasms with her lips against his, screaming into his mouth.

She almost doesn’t notice when he pulls out, his breathing ragged, but she comes to her senses in enough time to stop him from reaching for the toilet paper.

“Use my hands,” she whispers, reaching down to his cock, all swollen-red and all sticky from her.  She wants to feel it when it happens.

He kisses her palms clean.

“I guess you are a hypocrite,” she pants, slumping against his sweaty chest.  She notices her legs are cramped from wrapping around the toilet.  She’ll have to take a nice, hot bath when she gets home.  It’s too bad she can’t invite Bonifer inside to join her.  “I thought you followed God’s word to the letter.  I’m married.  We just committed adultery.”

“I suppose I’m going to hell, then,” he says, stroking her back, kissing her hair.

“I’ll see you there,” Rhaella says, kissing him again.  If heaven is an Applebee’s bathroom, hell might be just as interesting.


End file.
